Getting through a combat.

Getting through a combat.

I was oneirically thinking of flumping down the cliff and was inquisitive about whether my muscles ruptured or the mental anguish was an amended way to get out of the city of the damned. There’s a combat going in between my forebrain and hindbrain if the blackness would ever be lost far behind the jack-o’-lantern and if that betrays me, the sunshine would accompany. For this world is catastrophic and there’s resplendence only when we make way for it.